Chapter 38: Northern Bastion, Day (2) (Patreon)

“Shit,” I cursed beneath my breath.

The horn blasts were innumerable. Try as I might, I could not block out the sounds echoing across the frozen plains, hidden within the blackening darkness.

No longer simply atop the battlements, it had clearly descended down onto the ground. Such was the thickness of the smog, I could no longer even see the smoke twisting in on itself. What had moments ago been a smog was now a wall of blackness.

It was an omen of something terrible to come, aided by the horn blasts so numerous that even counting those sounding them, the force assembling in the magical veil must be greater than any that has traversed the mountain pass in centuries.

Whoever was powerful enough to engulf the Northern Bastion in darkness was also capable of ensuring an army could descend upon the fortress. And we were utterly blind to it all.

I let out a grim smile as I realised the fate of the patrolling scouts. They weren't merely seized upon by roaming bands. They'd been purposefully removed to screen an approaching force.

Well, at least that made our mission a success. We now knew the fates of the missing soldiers.

And yet something about this situation told me we weren't about to just go home.

“We need to seek cover,” said Iris, whose spellcasting hand was already out as she watched the air in front of her. “Until we're able to see what's in front of us, we have no capacity to fight.”

I nodded.

“Agreed. Let's take cover lower down the battlements. At the very least, we need to find--”

A source of light, I was about to suggest.

But as every pair of eyes atop the battlements were suddenly drawn to the thickest of the fog, this no longer became an issue. At least so far as piercing the darkness was concerned.

Because within that endless smog, a silhouette suddenly appeared.

Its outline lit up as though the sun was at its back, ensuring that the silhouette of this person was visible, even as sheer darkness continually attempted to encroach on it.

I narrowed my eyes. Even with vision mildly blessed by the Goddess, I could not pick out anything about this figure. It was a form of darkness, lit up with just enough draw its outline.

It was only when it came closer that I realised this was no silhouette.

It was armour.

Black armour, so complete that not even the dark shadows creeping at its frame could hope to compare.

Beside me, Iris's spellhand lowered in shock. Her other hand went to the hilt of her sword, as though driven by instinct to reach for her most lethal weapon.

“That's … It cannot possibly be ...”

I didn't dare refute Iris's words, as much as I wanted to.

Because to do so would surely invite the wrath of the being that was currently wading through the darkness as though stepping through a field of grass.

A tall figure in shining black armour from head to foot, so smooth and metallic that even glassed obsidian paled in appearance. In its helmet, red dots formed the only taint to an otherwise pristine wall of black.

Beneath the black figure, something akin to a mount could be guessed. Despite the distance, the sound of steeled hooves clanged against the frozen ground. And yet no mare could be seen. It was as though the black figure was rising a cloud of dark miasma.

At its back, a headman's axe rose above its shoulders. It, too, was painted in black so deep that no light could touch it.

But it was what the black figure held which gave its identity away the most.

A burnt staff, its head brimming with black thunder, as though it'd seized the lightning bolt of whatever had struck it, and then proceeded to corrupt it to its own will.

The Black Stave of Command, used only by one being, designated to command the armies under the banner of the Demon King.

The Dark General.

Second in command to only the Demon King himself, the Dark General was both the most dreaded commander, sorcerer and enforcer under the Demon King's command.

Like the Demon King, he was a shrewd tactician and a terrifying warrior.

But unlike the Demon King, he could be expected to take the field when the situation demanded it. When the black hand of his officers was not enough, and he opted to use his own.

Those instances were as rare as they were horrific.

Because if there was only one guarantee, it was that those who faced the Dark General in battle would leave a corpse.

And he was now riding towards us, an artificial light at his back to fight away the magical darkness he himself had summoned.

“The Dark General,” I murmured, breaking the ominous silence that had engulfed all those atop the battlements.

I thought desperately. The Dark General was here. In the Northern Bastion.

That meant he'd brought along a significant portion of the Demon King's army. Perhaps he'd brought as many as could physically fit through the pass. Even if he didn't, it was sure to be a force that could take the fortification.

In fact, even he could take the fortification, if the stories were true.

But whether or not they were, the answer was clear.

We had to escape.

“We must retreat,” I said to Iris, to Magnus, to the officers rooted to the spot. “This garrison is not prepared to withstand a siege by the Dark General.”

It was the words needed to shake those here out of their stupor. Iris nodded, not only out of practicality, but also trust to my judgements. I did not know how Magnus was reacting, but I could almost feel him pointing the tip of his spear towards the foe, as though assessing whether or not he could get a starting run on becoming the next great hero of the ages.

He would never make it.

Within that darkness, I had no doubt that the Dark General's personal guard were lying in wait. And all around them, the soldiers of the Demon King's army.

That they could not be heard was only testament to the Dark General's skills of obscurement. Not only could he veil his army from eyes, but also from ears.

That was a problem.

Because currently, it meant that the lone sight of just the Dark General was enough to instil a sense of misplaced courage in those who had enough to shake themselves from their initial shock.

“What was that?” said the commander, his sceptre shaking in defiance. “And you call yourself an ordained hero! You would immediately suggest we flee?!”

I nodded without hesitation.

“The fortress is lost. The lives of those within it need not be. You do not have the capacity to withstand a siege by the Dark General. You did not even know he was here until he revealed himself at your doorstep.”

“I'm in agreement,” said Iris, standing beside me. “It is better to use the chance to retreat while it is still present. It is soldiers who win wars, not stone. Withdraw and regroup south at once, and a counterattack can be achieved.”

For a moment, the commander looked shocked at the forcefulness of the directions we were offering.

It wasn't planned, although I did not regret our strong tone. In times of crisis, a powerful voice of reason was sometimes required to push soldiers and leaders alike into action.

Other times, however, it could also work against them.

“I will not abandon the fortress, simply at the coming of one creature! This is the Northern Bastion! We endure. We do not flee! Even if the Demon King himself was here, I would not order a retreat!”

I groaned.

There was time for bravery and recklessness. It was not when doing so would lead to the deaths of more than simply those around him. These soldiers could not be told to die in vain.

“The Dark General is not alone,” I said, my voice unable to hide the note of desperation. “This mist obscures the army with him. You do not know how large it is. It could be covering the entire plain.”

“Then they will witness their leader fall.”

“What?”

The commander turned to an officer within his group.

“The Dark General has revealed himself in his attempt to cower us. We cannot allow this chance to go to waste. Archery captain, distance!”

The officer spoken to paled, but commendably turned to measure the distance to the Dark General.

“I estimate 400 yards, sir, but I cannot give an accurate estimation in this darkness.”

“That will do. Order all arrows loosed at the Dark General. Ballistas and catapults, too. Bring down the sky on him.”

“Yes, sir.”

With well-drilled discipline, the archery captain turned his gaze down the battlements. He could not see his men, but he must have imagined them to already have their bows trained and ready on the Dark General. If they did not, they soon would be.

And it would be the death of them all.

“Wait!”

My pleading voice held the captain at bay.

The Dark General was not merely showing himself out of boldness. Perhaps he did wish to instil terror in those who looked at him, but that was not the primary purpose to revealing himself.

It was for another reason altogether.

It was to act as bait.

“It's a trap, do not--”

“Order the men, captain!”

“Yes, sir! … All loose!”

To my horror, echoing shouts by other officers rang up and down the battlements.

And then, from the darkness, I saw arrows whistling out.

Dozens, hundreds, followed by the heavy bolts of ballistas and the boulders of catapults. With a commendable professionalism and readiness that separated the kingdom's professional soldiers with those of its neighbours, a hail of death streamed towards the lone figure of the Dark General.

For a moment, I wondered what manner of trickery it was that the Dark General had employed to draw out all this force. I half-expected him to vanish on the spot, revealed to be little other than an illusion.

Instead, he stopped still, as though waiting for all the oncoming hail of ballistics to arrive.

And that is exactly what he did.

The first wave of arrows and bolts crashed into him with the power of a storm. Even the magical darkness was briefly swept aside by the sheer gale and force of the impact. Around him, smaller figures were revealed. Goblins, ogres and lesser demons, each wearing the jagged armour of elite soldiery.

They were all utterly destroyed.

Shrieks and cries filled the air as scores of the enemy were blown away by the impact. Soon, the shouts of some of our men joined the sound, jubilant at what they saw as an impossibly well-struck volley against the Dark General. No armour forged in this age or the last could have withstood such a simple but brutal attack.

However--

It was not armour which prevented the Dark General from being struck.

It was magic.

Covered in arrows, he casually wiped away the spent munitions as though it were dust on his armour. A shimmering film could be seen briefly flickering around his form. A magical barrier of the highest calibre. Even if all the king's sages worked together to create one, it would not have been as powerful as what had just been demonstrated.

Then, he raised his black staff.

“Iris!”

Beside me, Iris reacted at once.

Letting go of the hilt of her sword, she raised both hands to cover our party in a shield of shimmering light. It was nothing compared to what the Dark General had just demonstrated. A mere imitation of sorcery.

But it was enough.

Electric currents ran through the air around us. Around the black fog.

It was lightning.

The next moment, light fought with darkness as thunder clapped around us. Shrieks to match those of the Demon King's soldiers below suddenly echoed around us, followed by the stench of burning flesh. No scream lasted longer than a second.

Against Iris's shield, no direct strike of magic was sent against us. And yet the heat from the impact that shattered across the battlements could be felt cracking the stonework beneath our feet.

The officers were not so lucky.

Especially as some of them still appeared to be alive.

“Oh no ...”

Iris's face paled in horror at the burns that were smoking off the bodies of the fallen officers. Like me, she likely couldn't tell the alive from the dead at first glance.

What didn't need clarifying, however, were the archers.

They appeared to have been directly targeted by the Dark General. What few bodies I could spy within the temporarily thinned darkness were charcoal.

I couldn't believe it.

This wasn't just an obscuring mist. It was actual black clouds he's summoned. The kind he could channel literal lightning through. And he'd just used it to horrifying effect.

It was an act of magic that could not be summoned by anything other than a legendary spellcaster.

One utterly without mercy.

Precisely and coldly, the Dark General had dispatched with the archers on the walls.

He could have likely sent electricity in every direction and swept away most of the soldiers. Instead, he had revealed himself in order to purposefully and deliberately do away with them all in a single, calculated move.

It was a meticulous way of killing.

And now only we seemed to now be standing to witness it.

“Impudent worms,” said a cold voice, magically magnified to echo throughout the air. “You trespass on lands sworn in ancient times to the one true king of this world. Repent for your transgressions with an offering of blood and a rite of loyalty, and you shall be spared. Serve the destined king in life, or you shall serve him in death.”

I decided that was the message for us to leave.

“We're out,” I said, my fists tight at the scores of wasted lives. “We have no time to spare. We need to leave now and tell the Royal Army that the Dark General is coming. Let's go.”

At my prompting, Iris finally turned her head, her eyes large in disbelief at the power displayed.

“This magic … the level of spellcasting is beyond anything I've seen. The Dark General. He just brought lightning down across half the battlements.”

“All the more reason to get out now. We'll grab as many soldiers as we can. Nobody else needs to be zapped.”

Iris nodded, her expression shaken but resolute.

“The king must be informed. This is … unprecedented. The Dark General is not supposed to possess this level of individual power.”

I agreed with Iris, but not was not the time to discuss the level of ability witnessed.

Instead, I took the first running steps, waving Iris onward. Once she took off, I turned and did the same for Magnus.

Except that unlike Iris, he did not move.

Instead, his face was more of less impassive as he looked at the Dark General in thought. The spear was still clutched in his arms, somehow having either evaded the attention of the enemy, or else somehow managing to shield him even now.

“Yo, I got an idea.”

Iris and I both looked in horror at Magnus.

“Magnus!” snapped Iris. “This is not the time to entertain whatever moronic idea you have. We need to retreat at once. A plan needs to be put into place.”

“I got a plan.”

“No you don't!”

“It's good. Hey, I'm serious. I think this can work.”

“What can work? Waving your phallus in the Dark General's face? That is not going to phase him!”

“Heh, you sure about that? Because you don't become head of the Demon King's army if you still had a cock you could use. No whores in that army, I'm guessing.”

“Magnus!”

“Yeah, yeah. A bit of shouting, running and pissing senseless. You can do those things. I got an idea to kill the Dark General.”

I barely had the strength to devote time to arguing.

Which is why, instead, I found myself tempted to just listen instead.

Because as brash as Magnus could be, I wouldn't call him particularly prone to wishing certain death. He did the job, even if the job was reckless and hashed.

If he had a plan, then as unbelievable as the prospect was, it was worth listening to.

“Well, this is a holy artifact, right?” he said, taking advantage of the hesitation I'd sent his way. “And you said it did in a Dark General in the past.”

I did. And I regretted it deeply now.

“If it happened, then that was a long time ago, Magnus. We don't have the time or resources to make sure it still works. Besides, that was probably in pitched battle. With equal armies. We do not have equal armies. All we have are big walls. And even those are looking small right now.”

Magnus, despite the gravity of the situation, put on a knowing smirk.

“We don't only have big walls.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have big ballistas.”

“Ballistas?” I looked into the thinned darkness, where now, the silhouette of a ballista could be spied. I could also see the charred remnants of its crew. “You already saw. They did nothing. Look, Magnus, we need to ...”

My jaw dropped in horror as I saw the way Magnus was tossing his spear between his hands.

“You can't be serious,” said Iris, seeing the insanity that I also was. “Please tell me this is a very poorly timed joke.”

Magnus casually made his way over to the ballista. He began to examine it even as both Iris and me went over with him, waving at him to not do something beyond moronic.

“You know, it actually pisses me off,” he said, as he nodded in apparent satisfaction at the large weapon. “Using a spear in a ballista? That obviously won't work, right? The weight and density is all wrong. The accuracy will be all over the place. Hell, the ballista is probably scrambled from the lightning.”

“Exactly!” said Iris, who was clearly wondering whether or not she should forcibly stop Magnus as he proceeded to slot his spear into place. “So kindly explain why you're currently loading the highly unreliable ballista with a priceless holy artifact! Isn't this a terrible idea?!”

“Yup. Will still work, though.”

Magnus wore his disgusting smile as he proceeded to pull at the wrench locking the spear for firing. He didn't even look like he was following any procedure. Simply casually loading and locking as though he were nocking and drawing a bow in a forest hunt.

“Magnus!” Iris was beside herself as she watched with increasing horror at the sight before her. “There is no way this will end in success. You said it yourself. So why do you act like it'll work, anyway?!”

Magnus looked up only briefly. He flashed his white teeth, somehow visible even more so than the holy artifact radiating golden energy atop the ballista.

“Because,” he said, as he aimed the spear's trajectory only roughly in the direction of the Dark General. “The Goddess is a bitch. And bitches loves bastards.”

He released the firing lever.

And so, knowing that his patron goddess apparently loved assholes, an ordained hero sent not a prayer, but an insult into the sky.

The next moment, all I saw was a streak of golden light heading in entirely the wrong arc.

That golden streak of light became a jet of pure white, and the direction sharply corrected course, guided by a hand whose invitation came at that most precious of gifts.

Faith from someone who honestly had no faith in her whatsoever.

The head of the Dark General disintegrated, as did half his body.

The black cloud lifted. And an army fated to pillage through the kingdom instead routed into the frozen hills of the north. The soldiers had been saved.

And all it took, was one guy with a foul mouth and a big shit eating grin.